Everything We Ever Wanted Read Online Free Page B

a piece of bread at Scott, and hover over him obsequiously until he ate it. Joanna would make small talk, busying her hands with the bread knife or the catalogs. And Charles would sit silent, seething. Scott wouldn’t have to face anything. Everyone always tiptoed around him, even when he hadn’t done anything wrong.
Scott raised his chin, gazing at her unflinchingly. Perhaps he knew what was going through her mind, what she was trying to figure out. She dared to peek back. He looked the same as he always did—disheveled and self-assured, lazily handsome. He obviously looked nothing like the other Bates-McAllisters, with their wide eyes and thin lips and ears that stuck out slightly. While Charles and Sylvie’s skin were pale, Scott’s was more of an olive tone, easily tanned and never blotchy. His facial features a curious, intriguing mix of cultures. It was one of the many things the family never talked about—that Scott wasn’t white. It both was and wasn’t an issue for them. They acted as though it didn’t matter, yet Joanna wondered if, subconsciously, it affected their every reaction.
Scott didn’t seem any different in the wake of the boy’s death. Certainly not weighted down or guilty about anything. If he was hiding something, the shame would be written all over his face, wouldn’t it?
Joanna lowered her eyes, realizing she’d been staring at him too long. “I should …” she said, ducking her head and teetering, idiotically, toward the kitchen.
“Leaving because of me?” he teased. When he smiled, he showed off long, wolflike teeth.
“Um, no. No!” Joanna sputtered. Her face felt hot. She scrambled for a pressing reason to be back in the kitchen but came up with nothing.
Scott stepped forward until he was just inches from her. He remained there, appraising Joanna, making up his mind about something. He was close enough that Joanna could smell cigarettes and soap on him, so close he might kiss her. She could see the V-shaped fibers in his sweatshirt and that the drawstring for his hood was tipped with silvery metal. He breathed in and out. She barely breathed at all. She felt so small and vulnerable next to him. Hummingbird-frail.
“Boo,” Scott whispered.
“Ha!” Joanna exclaimed, like she thought it was a joke, jumping a little.
Scott quickly receded. In seconds, he was at the front door. Once his back was to her, he held a dismissive hand over his head. “Later.”
The door banged shut. Joanna listened to his footsteps walking down the flagstone path. A car door slammed, the tires screeched. The heat kicked on, and an unsavory mix of dust, clove cigarettes, and varnish wafted through the vents. She remained in the hallway for a moment, raking her fingernails up and down her bare arms. There was a wet prickle of sweat on the back of her neck. Her skin felt flushed.
Boo.
When Joanna returned to the kitchen, she expected Charles and Sylvie to look up, instantly aware that something about her was askew. But their heads were pressed together close, whispering.
“But, Mom,” Charles was saying. “The call. Don’t you think—”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Sylvie interrupted.
Joanna took a step back and slid behind the wall. They hadn’t seen her.
“Still. You should call a lawyer. Just in case.” Charles hissed.
Joanna widened her eyes. So he did think a lawyer idea was a good idea.
There was the sound of rustling papers. “What would be the point of that?” Sylvie asked.
“Protection, obviously. It could mitigate things.”
Sylvie murmured something Joanna couldn’t hear. Then Charles sighed. “But what about what happened at the graduation party?” he whispered. “Remember? The fight in front of Bronwyn? Do you think that could be a link to this thing with Scott and the boys?”
“No,” his mother interrupted fast. “There’s no link between this and that.”
“How can you be so sure?” he pressed. Sylvie didn’t answer.
Joanna couldn’t stand it anymore. She